Emerald of Thine Eye
by planet p
Summary: Sam and Dean attend a wedding, but they’re not the only unexpected guests.
1. Chapter 1

**Emerald of Thine Eye** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _Supernatural_ or any of its characters.

* * *

For the wedding, Emeralda wore a gown of palest green, her little gold slippers decorated by green foliage in embroidery; a garland of white, pink and green carnations, a crown atop her fair hair.

She shone with the glow of pregnancy, and tried her hardest to walk like a lady on her wedding day should; measured, and graceful, though it still came off as a sort of tentative prelude to a waddle. She was five months along, and it showed.

Bobby wore a white suit, accompanied by a glossy tie in feather green, cut into oblongs of green alongside green by thin black lines, and tan brown dress shoes.

Dean was looking forward to the food afterward; he was hungry, and beside him, Sam was taking intent note of the proceedings.

Sam and Dean were yet to be introduced to Emeralda. They'd heard of the wedding day through the local newspaper, and had turned the Impala around, eager to make an appearance.

What looked to be all of Emeralda's family and friends sat across the aisle from them, seated on the side reserved for Bobby's guests, amongst a group of associates – perhaps from his salvage yard business – and several assorted persons who were undoubtedly drinking friends, or the like.

Certainly, there were no other hunters present, save for Sam and Dean, and the groom, Bobby.

* * *

After the ceremony, Bobby walked over to them and began talking, as though they'd stopped a conversation a few moments ago, when one of them had had to step out, and he was starting it again. "Ordinarily, I'd have figured her for a crazy, but the way she put it is that the angels wanted it. The baby, that is. Her family were the ones gunning for the marriage."

Dean looked at Bobby, then at Sam, a very strange frown on his face. Sure, he believed in angels, but the baby thing, not as much. "Where'd you meet this girl anyway?" he asked, glancing back in Bobby's direction.

"She claimed that the angels directed her to me," Bobby confessed.

"And you were buying that? Just like that?"

Sam looked at the floor.

Bobby frowned. "I guess that was gullible."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, try stupid!"

"She checks out, though. She's not inhabited," Bobby told them.

Sam lifted his face to Bobby's face. "Not all angels are what we would term as 'good.' Some of their ideas are… different, compared to our own. I'm talking about us as humans, here."

"Twisted, Sammy," Dean added. "Right out of this orbit, into a galaxy far, far away. By the name of Mad and Way, Way Too Self-Possessed with My Own Importance and _Sheer Brilliance_ Land!"

"Are we talking about Castiel, here?" Sam asked in a lowered voice.

Dean pulled a face, shooting his younger brother a look. "Zach, dude. Zach, all the way!"

Sam returned his attention to Bobby. "Are you happy? Together, I mean?"

Bobby grimaced. "No. We're unhappy almost everyday, yet we can't let it show. What would be the point in that? Emeralda more so than me, I think. She's not happy at all, but they're her angels, and this is what they wanted."

"The wedding? They wanted the wedding?" Sam asked, eyes widening in anticipation of the older man's answer.

"No, but it seemed appropriate. You know, for the kid's sake, and Emeralda's folks' sake. That sort of things seems important to them."

Dean sighed. "Well, congratulations, Bobby. I'd better head off before I say anything I'd rather not." He nodded, and walked away in the direction of the food.

Sam glanced back to Bobby, slightly apologetic. "Yeah, I think I'll head off, too, but, seriously, congratulations."

Bobby shook his head and turned away, heading off in the direction of his new wife.

* * *

Sam picked up a canapé off of a large platter and popped it in his mouth, thinking about Bobby and Emeralda, and Dean's sudden mood.

"Hello, Sam," a female's voice, to his left, spoke fondly.

Sam abandoned the platter and spun around, his eyes coming to rest on the bearer of the voice, a small, coal-eyed, mousy-haired woman who was smiling at him. "Ah, do we know each other?" he questioned, apologetic and bewildered.

"We do," the woman replied softly, and extended a small hand. "Her name is April Paris, and mine is Ruby."

Sam backed away from the woman quickly. "No way! You're dead! We stabbed you with the demon-killing knife!"

"My knife, Sam," Ruby reminded him. "Do you really think it would work against me?"

Sam shook his head sharply. "Stay away from me! Stay away from my family, do you hear me?"

"I hear you very well," Ruby replied.

* * *

Dean grinned, and held his hand out to the small Asian woman who'd introduced herself as Soo-Chin. Music was for dancing, and he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity because he was mad at some crazy angel!

Soo-Chin smiled and put her hand in his.

* * *

"What do you want?" Sam hissed, watching his older brother leading a woman out onto the dance floor, and watching Ruby.

"For a start, I'd like it very much if you would ask me to dance," Ruby told him, shooting a small glance behind her, the way of a man who was watching her, completely absorbed, her movements slow and sure. She returned her eyes to Sam's face, awaiting his response.

"Would you care to dance, _madam_?" Sam gritted, his eyes glinting harshly.

"I would," Ruby replied gently, nodding once, slowly.

Sam grabbed her wrist in a painful grip and stalked toward the dancers, yanking her after him.

"Do remember, Sam," Ruby reminded him, "that as long as you're hurting me, you're hurting April Paris just the same."

Sam growled stiffly, whipping around to face her, and loosened his hold on her wrist, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her toward him.

Ruby stared off past him for a moment, lost in thought, or at something or someone behind him.

He didn't bother to turn to look.

Ruby stepped closer and rested her head on his chest.

Sam tried not to look too in pain.

Dean looked like he was having fun, and he wouldn't want to blow it by making a face.

He forcibly put a smile on his face. It wasn't his best – it didn't reach beyond his mouth, and it felt sore already – but he'd have to make do.

* * *

_TBC? Thanks for reading._


	2. Chapter 2

An hour into the celebrations, the wedding cake was revealed, ready to be cut; a great snow inundated castle in white, ivy in dark green icing slowly mounting its walls, and covered also by 'snow.'

Underneath the elaborate icing, was a fruit cake, and though Sam would have preferred a torte, he accepted a piece, nonetheless.

Paper plate, plastic fork and piece of cake in hand, he left the table in search of a suitable seat, not wanting to disturb Dean, who was chatting to the woman he'd earlier been dancing with, a smile plastered on his face.

He saw Emeralda's father glance his way, hesitantly, as though debating whether to approach him and broach conversation, and, as though he hadn't, in fact, clued onto Emeralda's father's intentions, made his way toward the exit, hoping for some fresh, moving air and a bit of sunlight.

He didn't much relish the thought of an interrogation, and reminded himself that he'd have to eat the piece of cake, though he wasn't all that hungry anymore.

He stepped outside, squinting against the bright wall of light suddenly presented before him, and wandered away in the general direction of a small group of trees.

He'd just made it to the trees, and was standing in a pool of shade, when he felt something small and light make contact with his shoulder, and glanced first at his shoulder, and then at the ground where he could see a small sultana lying amongst the earth and bits of twigs and other debris.

He glanced up from the sultana on the ground and stared ahead of him, searching for any signs of the person who'd obviously thrown the sultana – thinking that perhaps it was a small child, or Dean, trying to cheer him up in his own strange way – and frowned at the two shoes and two legs dangling in the air. He followed the legs up to the rest of the body, sitting in a tree, paper plate in her lap, and his eyes darkened at the sight of the person's face, admonishing himself for not having recognised who it had been earlier by her attire, though his attention had been focussed mainly on her face when they'd met earlier.

Ruby flung her legs back and forth idly, picking at the fruit cake and popping little bits into her mouth. "Are you looking for me?" she asked, and smiled pleasantly.

Sam pulled a face, and squinted up at her, sitting on a branch of the large, old tree.

She pulled a sheet of icing off the back end of her piece of cake and sucked on a section of it absently as the piece beneath her fingers slowly melted, marked with the indentation of her fingerprints from the pads of her fingertips, and Sam's eyes went to the old wooden ladder sitting up against the bough of the tree, its paint peeling away and littering the ground beneath it with flecks of paint, like slowly falling snow in the wintertime, or sweets from a piñata, at a birthday party.

Ruby placed the piece of icing down on the plate resting in her lap and picked at a piece of the brown cake stuff, flicking it at Sam, and popped her fingers into her mouth innocently as though to prove that she'd only been letting the icing melt from her fingers into her mouth in an attempt to un-sticky-ify them.

Sam's eyes jumped from the old ladder leant against the tree to Ruby's face, and she smiled at him innocently. Scowling, he brushed a hand over his hair in irritation and the crumb of cake dropped onto the ground.

"Aren't you going to eat any cake?" Ruby teased, smiling down at him. "It's nice."

Sam suppressed a barking laugh and turned his back to her, his eyes clouding with an air of dismissive indifference.

Ruby laughed softly, the sound like water flowing over rocks in a country stream, dappled by the shadows of the trees that grew alongside its winding path, and flitting with little gleaming things, bugs, and tadpoles, and tiny fishes of all sorts. "You won't just discard it, after all the effort _I_ put into making it, will you?" she cooed, from up in the tree, her voice caught on the soft breeze and distorted, but for the gentle emphasis she'd placed upon the 'I.' She laughed again, and declared genuinely, with a touch of naivety, "That would be hurtful!"

Sam's shoulders stiffened, and he spun back to face her, anger on his face.

Ruby sighed gently, fully expectant and awaiting his outburst.

To spite her, Sam arranged his face into one of a somewhat more pleasant nature, and grimaced, craning his neck as he looked up at her, regarding her face. "What do you want?" he demanded stiffly, unable to keep the hostility, totally, at least, from marring his voice.

Ruby lifted a hand, bending a finger, and beckoned him closer, as though to whisper her answer down to him from the treetops.

Placing his paper plate and piece of cake down beside the ladder, Sam folded his arms stubbornly across his chest and stepped forward.

Ruby picked the paper plate up out of her lap and balanced it on the branch beside her, as though it was a distraction to her, and returned her attention to Sam's face, and grinned.

Sam barely had time to unfold his arms before she was falling, and she laughed spritely as he caught her in his arms, and the paper plate unbalanced, rocking on the branch for a moment, and then tipped and hit the ground.

Sam released her from his hold and dropped her unceremoniously on her feet, his expression distorted with disgust as Ruby continued to giggle as though taken by a strange and sudden ailment.

As he watched, Ruby turned slowly, like the little figurine in the music box, and lifted her hand as though to cover her mouth. "Oh, the cake!" she cried unfortunately, a pang of guilt and naughtiness tinting her voice, and lapsed into a fit of helpless giggles.

"What do you want?" Sam repeated angrily, unimpressed by her little show.

Ruby gasped, the childish giggles ceasing with that, a clock broken, and spun to face him. "Come on, Sam, where's that mind reader psychic shit?" she shot, the distain and incredulity evident in her voice, as well as her eyes.

Sam slitted his eyes in a harsh glare.

"Concentration, Sammy, not anger," Ruby chimed, prodding him in the shoulder with an extended finger. A hint of amusement bobbed in her voice. "That's what it takes!" Her eyes sparked.

Sam lifted a hand and slapped her across the face.

"Ouch!" Ruby hissed, her face a garish, grinning mask of amusement. "You made her cry," she admonished, and the amusement dropped from her face, tear filled eyes gazing back out at him.

As fast as it had come, the sadness evaporated, to the sound of Ruby's delighted laughter, and she easily slipped past him in a light stroll, tears fleeing her eyes as she gathered speed, almost skipping gleefully. "I'm off to have fun with Derek," she called quietly as she went, her voice ringing with sweetness and flowing behind her like bright pink streamers in the wind.

Sam stood stiffly for a long moment, refusing to move, though he'd taken her meaning plainly, as subtle as it may have seemed to any onlookers, if there had been any.

Ruby strode toward the building in an easy stroll, her face a mask of happiness at her best friend's union to the man with whom she was soon to have a baby, and who was surely the man that she loved.

Behind her, Sam turned begrudgingly, and, in several loping strides, fell into an easy step behind her. He brought his hand up to her arm, as she walked, and, with a hand clamped to her arm, twisted her around.

Ruby's expression changed immediately from happiness to alarm.

Sam ignored the look on her face and drew her up close to him by placing both of his hands onto her upper arms, his glare boring into her face.

"You're scaring me!" Ruby whispered. And then, a little more fiercely, confusion working its way into her features, the shine in her eye, and the corners of her eyes, "Who are you? I don't know you!"

Sam shook her by the arms harshly. "What do you want, Ruby?" he growled, taking no notice of her attempt to confound him.

Ruby's eyes swelled. "Let me go!" she whispered. "Please, I don't know you! I won't tell anyone, just, please, let me go!" Wet tears ran down her face, smudging the foundation she'd used to cover up any blemishes on her visage. "Please, mister, I don't know what it is you want with me-"

Her words were cut short when Sam hunched and dropped his face to meet hers, planting his mouth over hers in a clumsy kiss.

Dean's laughing voice launched itself in their direction. "Seriously, dude, you've gotta check out the-" The voice stopped, and then restarted, slightly awkward, but happy, "Okay, so I'll just be, ah, inside if you, you know, need me."

Sam imagined the look on his brother's face, the shrug, the pleased swagger. He'd take care of Ruby himself, and there would be no reason for Dean to ever know that the demon-killing knife hadn't worked and that Ruby hadn't died.

Dean was happy right now, and Ruby made him angry, and Sam just didn't want to see Dean that angry on Bobby's wedding day, or on any other day, for that fact. Sure, it was inevitably going to happen again, at some later date in the future, but that didn't mean it had to happen today.


	3. Chapter 3

"April Paris Roberta Harrigan!"

Sam released his grip on Ruby's upper arms, whom he'd, earlier, forced from him, bodily, with a hard, disgusted glare.

Ruby's eyes left his own and peered past him at the woman slowly moving toward them from out of the building, and she stepped to the side to put some distance between them, hoping to dispel some of the other woman's suspicions at their close proximity and, being as they were, the only two to be seen in the near vicinity, save for the woman drawing steadily closer.

Ruby affixed a beamish smile to her face, and did not look again at Sam.

"And who is this delicious young thing?" Emeralda asked, as Sam turned to face her.

"Emeralda!" Ruby gasped, feigning shock. "On your wedding day!"

Sam offered Emeralda his hand, straightening automatically as he did so. "Sam Winchester, Mrs. Singer," he introduced.

Emeralda accepted his hand, with a quick glance in Ruby's direction, and shook it, smiling at Sam. "My, you're quite tall," Emeralda told him.

Sam grinned, dropping his face to the ground for a moment. "Yeah."

"So, you're a friend of Robert's then?" Emeralda asked, her tone taking on a professional cast as she recalled where she'd seen Sam sitting during the ceremony.

Sam laughed, lifting his face from the ground.

Ruby swiftly wedged herself between the two and took a hold of Sam's arm, flashing Emeralda a grin and a wink, and pulled Sam around with her, away from Emeralda, and began walking away, back toward the building.

Sam heard Emeralda's soft footfalls behind them, and knew that she'd decided to head back inside herself.

Glancing across at Ruby, Sam noticed the pained expression on her face, as though it bothered her to have to keep up the leisurely stroll when she'd rather have preferred a down-to-business march, and smiled, pleased that she was, at least, in some discomfort.

"Do remember, _Safety comes first!_" Emeralda told them motherly, placing a palm to her bump, as they neared the entranceway and Sam broke away from Ruby and turned back to offer Emeralda his hand in assisting her through the door, which required a small step.

Ruby laughed, embarrassed, and Sam forced a grin, which he abandoned the instant Emeralda had turned away and began walking off, in favour of a favourite glare.

Ruby reached out a hand to grab his arm again, and attempted, unsuccessfully, to pull him toward her, and ended up closing the distance by step instead.

Sam didn't look at her, but instead lifted his chin and tossed his head in the direction of his older brother, his eyes narrowing in interest and concentration.

"She's dead meat, Sammy," Ruby spoke pleasantly beside him. "Baby's included, too, free of charge." She wrinkled her nose at the cuteness of it; a baby.

Sam's head whipped around and he glared down at her disgustedly, finding her expression anything but cute.

"That, silly Dumbo, is where you come in!" Ruby explained, lifting her gaze to meet his.

Sam scowled, face darkening.

"Oh, no, it's nothing fantastical!" Ruby told him in excitement. "Just plain old illness!" She beamed up at him. "But my Sammy, he's a special man!" she cooed proudly. "Silly, but special."

Sam glared into her face hatefully.

Ruby closed her eyes and rested her head against his arm, as though fondly.

Sam resisted the urge to throw her away from him as hard as he could.

"My winsome Sammy, just as handsome as a big ole teddy bear!" Ruby enthused.

Sam imagined her hitting the wall as he tossed her away from him, and the second before everyone stopped and turned to stare in shock.

Ruby lifted her head from his arm and stepped away from him, her hand slipping from his arm. "That's one special baby, Sammy, you just see to it that it's looked after now, good and proper. Concentration and confidence, Sammy. Remember, there are good people who believe in you. Dean believes in you. Wouldn't want to disappoint loved ones, now, would you?" She grinned at him self-importantly.

A moment later, the grin was gone. April Paris looked around her, panic and confusion starting to show on her face, and glanced at Sam, who looked away from her quickly. She hurried away in the direction of her best friend, Emeralda, and her new husband.

* * *

Sam returned to the refreshment table, setting his eyes upon a large bowl of fruit salad, and pretended not to hear when Emeralda addressed Bobby as 'Robbie.'

He was disappointed, confused, and hungry, and angry that he'd let Ruby slip away again.

He walked to the end of the table and retrieved a small plastic bowl, which he filled with fruit salad, returning to the larger bowl, and then turned away and headed over to a chair, which he took up on to eat his fruit salad, hoping that Dean wouldn't sense his moroseness in that way he sometimes did, and trying to think up a believable lie at the same time, just in case.

Spooning fruit salad into his mouth, he decided that he could possibly, fairly believably, fall back on the old, but still good, 'She just wasn't that into me,' and refrained from leaping out of the chair and splattering gooey fruit salad all over himself and the floor at the sudden appearance of Castiel and his human vessel, Jimmy, beside his chair.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, in relief, and stood. "Castiel."

"Cas, you old wedding crasher, you!" Dean's loud, jovial voice greeted them as Dean bounded over and slapped Castiel's arm good-naturedly.

"Sam. Dean," Castiel responded.

"Dude," Dean interrupted, "how about shouting Jimmy some cake? It'll be sure to make his day!"

Sam grimaced, glancing down at his fruit salad in distain, wondering if it was not a bit antagonistic to be eating in front of Jimmy when he couldn't eat anything himself.

"Dude, Jimmy!" Dean encouraged, pinching Castiel's arm for effect. "Do you remember that guy? Likes – no – _loves_ to eat!"

At that comment, Sam grinned down at his bowl.

Making no response, Castiel walked away, and Dean immediately followed, chatting as he went, "Seriously, dude, I triple dare you to roll your eyes!"

Sam snorted, and walked after the pair, thinking that maybe he'd add an extra scoop of fruit salad to his almost empty bowl.

* * *

Castiel took a bite of the cake and pushed the paper plate away in Dean's direction with an ill expression.

Dean burst into laughter.

"Courtesy of Miss Harrigan," Sam conveyed in a lowered voice, casting a quick glance in April Paris' direction.

Castiel followed his gaze to the woman who was watching them, and refrained from moaning when the woman smiled at him. He really didn't want to eat the cake, though he could see he would have no other choice but to do so if he did not want to openly offend the woman.

He picked up the silly plastic fork and cut off another bit of cake and put it in his mouth, hoping that the woman would look away soon, and ignoring Dean's raucous laughter, and then wondering if it might _encourage_ the woman to look away, and instantly becoming less annoyed with it.

* * *

Dean pushed a plastic cup of punch into his hands, when he'd finished the cake. "It's on the house, dude!"

Castiel refrained from glancing at Sam for assistance, and accepted the cup, taking a small, hesitant sip of the drink inside and immediately coughed.

Dean patted him on the back encouragingly, spilling the 'punch' over his hands and onto the floor. Castiel looked around at him with an expression of annoyance, and Dean leapt back, afraid that he might have pushed it too far and end up with the drink on him.

Castiel frowned and looked back to the cup and took another small sip, listening to Sam munch on fruit salad as though maybe he'd been starved for a week.

Emeralda made her way over to the three and cast Sam a very suspicious glance, watching him scoop fruit salad into his mouth, then returned her gaze to Dean and the newcomer. "I see that you're enjoying the punch," she commented, smiling.

"Enjoying would be a rather inaccurate description, actually," Castiel replied.

Emeralda's smile slipped, before she hitched it back into place. "I see, it's not the best, then?"

"No," Castiel answered honestly, and did not go on when Dean punched him in the arm and then smiled at Emeralda.

Emeralda nodded at them both, flashing Dean a particularly bright smile, which might have been a touch condescending, and sighed. "Well, welcome to you, regardless," she said, directing this comment at Castiel. "I am Emeralda. I already know Dean and Sam, of course. You, I think, are the only person I do not know."

"It's Cas!" Dean cut in, before Castiel could open his mouth to form a reply. "You know, like Casper, the Friendly Ghost!" Dean added with a hearty laugh, and Sam looked up from his fruit salad and frowned.

Dean nodded to him and continued to laugh for a moment longer before trailing off into a mechanical grin.

Casiel nodded, keeping his attention on Emeralda's face, rather than on Sam's confused look.

April Paris scuttled over, glancing at Sam strangely, and scooting away from him a little as she passed him, and stopped beside Emeralda, who graced Castiel with a last smile before turning her attention to her best friend and walking away, arm in arm.

"Dude," Dean hissed to his brother, "there's no ghost. Keep munching, or whatever it was you were doing."

Sam frowned, annoyed, and returned his attention to the empty bowl in his hands.

Dean nodded to the large bowl at the table, indicating that there was plenty more left.


	4. Chapter 4

At first, Dean had been hesitant to take Bobby's offer, not wanting to intrude, but Bobby had been adamant, and, in the end, Dean had had no choice but to agree.

A motel would be expensive, when there was really no need for it, if one of them didn't mind camping out on the floor for the night.

* * *

Sam moaned and turned over on the couch, though he'd eaten far too much and consequently felt sick.

"Dude, if you need to be sick, go be sick, already," Dean muttered tiredly from the floor of Bobby's lounge room, where he was sleeping on a camping mat.

Sam threw out an arm and patted his head. "Stupid Sammy…" he mumbled.

Dean sat up quickly, holding onto Sam's hand. Sam talking about himself in third person was worrying. "Sammy, hey!"

Sam opened his eyes and peered at him through the semi-darkness, looking apologetic to see him sitting up and wide awake. "Can't sleep, Dean. 'S all," he mumbled.

Dean squeezed his hand. "You thinking about weddings, and families, and kids?"

Sam shook his head against the pillow. "Ate too much."

"I know that, Sammy," Dean replied. "You do that when you're upset, or agitated."

"Who says?" Sam mumbled, his eyes closing against his will.

"I do," Dean answered firmly.

"'M tired," Sam murmured.

Dean smiled, and placed Sam's hand beside him on the couch and lay back down, closing his own eyes.

* * *

Castiel shook his head, confused.

Anna smiled back at him, her smile fixed into place upon her face.

Slowly, Castiel realised that Anna had no cause to lie to him now. Not now. Though, why she was telling him this _now_, he did not understand.

He had a daughter, but… she'd died.

He fixed his gaze upon the spot he'd last seen Anna's face, only to discover that she'd left him, and left his questions unanswered with her.

* * *

_In the winter of 1930, a small child, just three years of age, and her father, to whom her mother was not married, though the two had been living together as a family since the birth of the child, vanished without a trace, leaving behind her mother and eight-year-old half sister, Hazel._

_It was during the summer of 1934, that the toddler, now a young child, returned to her mother and sister upon the occasion of the anniversary of her seventh birthday, blind in both eyes, and seemingly mute._

_As the years passed, the child once again spoke, though in moderation, and often after much consideration, though not once, as a child, or a young woman, did she recount the events that had lead to her disappearance, nor those concerning the years of her disappearance._

_The fate of her father was never revealed._

* * *

_The three year old woke early, roused by a distant voice, and as she slipped out of bed and made her shuffling way toward the voice – the floor was very cold – she gradually began to realise that the voice was a man's, and that it was, in fact, that of her father._

_Her daddy sat in the kitchen, talking to himself, or some invisible phantom, at length, and seemingly quite agitated._

_The small child watched and listened for some moments – how many she could not say exactly – as, steadily, her father's agitation became anger, and then what she thought might be despair. He was crying, she could see his eyes, and they were crying, and she wanted to go to him, but, as though he'd heard her thoughts, felt her longing, he stood, and turned away from her._

_He walked out of the kitchen, and into the hall, but he did not stop – not even to don a jacket or coat against the brittle winter atmosphere – and, upon reaching the front of the house, drew back the door and stepped outside, into the snow and miserable cold._

_The child hastened after him, afraid now that he was taken with a fever, or had in mind some intolerable and terrible deed which would take him from them forever._

_He pulled the door closed after him, but, much to the child's relief, there was no click to indicate that the lock had set into place, and the child was able to pull the door to her, and open, and slip outside after her father into the cold, white world._

_Just as her father had done, moments before, the child drew the door closed with some effort, her fingers clasped to the wood, until the frame and the door were digging, both, into her fingers painfully, and she slipped her fingers free of the entrapment and left the door unlocked, and with a small gap between door and doorframe, and bent to crawl backwards down the steps in the lead of her father, who had, by this point, reached the corner, poised to turn off and disappear from sight._

_The child slipped on the slippery steps and slid all the way down to the pavement of the street, and that was when she wished that father would turn and see her there, and hurry back to help her up, and pull her into his arms and keep her there, snug and warm, and safe from the thickening snow._

_At the corner, her father paused, before picking up his pace, and striding briskly away, and the fearful child picked herself up and raced after him, ignoring the cold and the snow and the fear._

_There was something terribly wrong with her daddy, she was certain of it, as well as she was certain that she would have no time to go back inside to fetch her mummy, in case she lose track of her father, and he became lost to them forever, as she feared he would._

_She was frozen near to solid by the time they reached the forest, and, tripping headlong over her own feet, she fell once again, one of many falls and slips, and then, she just lay there for a long moment, tired, too tired. But her daddy needed her, and she picked herself up again, knowing that this time, for certain, that her daddy could not fail to hear her if she called out to him; he was very close now, as though he'd stopped._

"_Daddy!" she emitted a plaintive wail, no longer interested in begging him to 'come home,' but only hoping that he might hear her and acknowledge her. She was so cold, now, though, strangely, she did not seem to feel the cold anymore._

_She wondered how she knew that she was cold, or how she could possibly be cold, when she could not feel the cold. Then, again, it seemed doubly as wondrous that she could not be cold, out in such weather, in such clothes._

_Up ahead, her daddy moved, as though hearing her, or sensing her, behind him, somehow – perhaps it had been her cry – and turned to face her, and she saw that the face was not her daddy's face, though it looked exactly like her daddy's face, and that the smile was not her daddy's smile, though it was perched upon a mouth that looked exactly like her daddy's mouth._

_That was when she knew that her daddy was gone, and that she should be frightened, and she was frightened._

* * *

_The man who was not her father told her that he loved her, and that, upon her coming of age, that they would be married._

_She told the man that she did not love him, daily, but she did not tell the man that she loved her daddy, after all, this man was not her daddy, and what cause was it of his to know of her heart's affections. Surely, if he knew, he'd only twist it to his little game, as he did everything else._

_As the years progressed, she began to think that she would never see her mother and sister again, she began to warm to the notion of impending demise. She dreamed that she would be reunited with her daddy, then._

_But, as the years passed, a strange thing happened between her and the man, though she did not immediately see it, or sense it._

_In fact, unbeknownst to her, it was upon the drawing of the day of her seventh birthday that the man realised this strange thing himself. He did not love the child any longer, she'd grown too… old, he supposed. Yes, that had to be it – and that horrible stain upon the right cheek for which she'd been named, unsightly thing it was. It repulsed him._

_The pale skin and blackest hair, like the arms and tendrils of midnight – they all repulsed him, and reminded him of that stain, that unsightly mark. The skin had been softer, before, he remembered. Surely, it had been so._

_This new thing – he did not want it, he found. No, he did not want this thing anymore._

_Still, he could not discard it as though it were merely refuse. No, that would be wrong, considering his past feelings. It would be like denouncing all of those years, all of the happy years he'd had before, all of the happy years they'd had together, and he could not bear the thought._

_He left his house, early in the morning, to purchase the child a last parting gift, to show his appreciation for the years, his fondness, in a single item, then decided, of course, that one item was not enough._

_Returning home, the gifts were presented to the child, newly scrubbed and cleaned, as always, and the child looked suitably handsome – save for that awful mark – and it made his chest ache and his heart yearn. But it was for the past, those aches and yearnings, and he knew he had to let go now. He had to let her go, she was no longer for him. No longer was she was he sought, what he needed._

_He left her upon her mother's doorstep, dressed in a dazzling gown, shoes and hosiery and a hat to match. A princess, spirited back home from a long travel abroad._

_She didn't smile, didn't even move, and he had to lean over her and knock upon the door using the smart doorknocker, or else she would be standing outside for a very long time, indeed._

_The sunlight found her skin as bright as chalk, and he strolled away and did not turn back, a strange weight lifted from him suddenly, as he turned the corner and, upon the step, if he'd turned to look, the girl disappeared from his sight, and he from hers, if she'd turned, also, to look._

_She did not._

_The woman who attended the door was not her mother, and the man who'd come to the door with her was not her father. The woman was happy, and her sister was much older, and there were two small boys, and all of them were smiling._

* * *

Sam tossed on the couch and woke abruptly, lurching upright, and then fleeing from the lounge room.

He didn't bother with the light – it was Bobby's, after all – and headed straight for the laundry, to be sick in the toilet, which was through a door beside the shower.

* * *

Dean woke to the feeling of warmth. His face was too hot. He sat up, struggling for a moment, before he remembered where he was – Bobby's, doh – and peered across at Sam, asleep on the couch, and felt his face start to cool, though his hair was still uncomfortably warm.

He glanced behind him shortly, and spied a gap in the curtains, through which a large column of light peeked, falling across the exact spot he'd been lying moments earlier, which explained the feeling of hotness.

Sam looked vaguely uncomfortable, which Dean attributed to the old couch, and decided that they'd take a motel next time, the floor and he didn't agree, and, apparently, neither did the camping mat and he, as he'd rolled right off the thing and spent the night sleeping on the bare floor.

"I have a daughter," a voice spoke suddenly, from the doorway, and Dean turned his head in that direction quickly, and frowned, then leapt to his feet, pushing all thoughts of pain from his mind.

"Jimmy, what happened? Where'd Cas go?"

"I am right here, Dean," Castiel replied, returning his gaze.

Dean grinned, then the frown was back. "We know Jimmy has a daughter," he said. "You got zapped back to Heaven – whatever – and Jimmy was Jimmy again. He went looking for his family, and… I mean, you were there, don't you remember?"

"I am not talking about Jimmy's daughter, Dean," Castiel told him. "I am talking about my own."

"You guys can, ah, have kids an' all?" Dean asked, astonished, and slightly unnerved.

"I do not believe that the child was conceived whilst in my angelic form," Castiel replied plainly.

Dean's gaze darted to Sam's sleeping form. "So, what, when you… took a vessel?"

"That is my belief," Castiel confirmed.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Okay…"

"I do not remember, however…" Castiel added, trailing away.

Dean scratched the side of his neck, not quite sure how to respond, or whether he was meant to respond at all. "That sucks!" he finally declared.

"She is dead," Castiel continued.

"I dunno, how long ago was this?" Dean asked, for something to say. "Maybe she had, like, kids? And her kids had kids, who had kids…?"

Castiel frowned, following where Dean was going, but not particularly interested. "There was no mention of grandchildren," he replied simply.

"Where'd you hear this anyway?" Dean questioned, suddenly annoyed.

"Anna kindly thought to mention it to me," came the dry reply.

Dean grinned. "Dude, was that sarcasm?"

Sam shot up on the couch, scrabbling with the back of the seat, and turned and stared at Dean and Castiel suddenly, eyes wide.

"Cas has a kid!" Dean reported immediately. "Well, had, but, man, you never know…"

Castiel frowned, his patient growing short for Dean's speculations.

Sam moaned, looking ill. "Ruby, right?" he mumbled.

Dean's eyes got wide. "What?"

"Her father, well, not her father..." Sam began to explain. "The vessel her father had inhabited, rather, was shot," he placed a finger to the front of his head, "through the head, and Ruby, feeling that this wasn't fair…" He frowned, confusion clouding his features.

"Her mother had remarried, you see, since the departure of her father. She'd begun a new family, but Ruby didn't feel a part of that new family, and longed for the one person who was her family. How was her father to return to her when the man he'd… been before, had been shot dead? It was Ann – Anna – that came then, promising to reunite her with her father, if she did what Anna asked of her."

Sam shook his head. "Don't ask, I don't know what they were. Suffice to say, that they were sufficiently… alarming, perhaps, for Ruby to decline. The man who'd been her father was dead, and Ruby was not wanted by her family, though she tried hard to want them, and to care for them, as she'd cared for her mother and father and sister as a child.

"Then, out of nowhere, her mother's new husband lost his mind and murdered the entire family, leaving the remains for Ruby to find, all in pieces, in different places throughout the house considered clever hiding places – in a saucepan, or the closet. He didn't kill himself, but he didn't ever recover either, and was committed to a facility for the insane.

"Ruby was alone again, and with no family to support her. She eventually found a job, and worked to save up for classes, which she did, and attended, too – until her classmates began to die, one by one, of suspicious circumstances."

"You think the demons were after her because she was a vessel?" Dean asked, getting into the story; forgetting that it wasn't just a scary story, but someone's life.

"Possibly," Sam replied. "Anyway, in the end, she'd finally had enough."

"And she ended herself?" Dean anticipated. "Dude, I thought she was a witch!"

Sam frowned. "She didn't kill herself, Dean. She ran away."

Dean nodded. "Right."

"Anyway, after she ran away, that was when she decided that she wanted to help people… you know, to live. After that, she invented a new name for herself, and a new past. She began studying medicine, but found that she did not agree with all of what she was learning and turned to a blended approach between mainstream medicine and what we would now call naturopathy.

"Still, the bad things eventually caught up with her, and that was when Ann returned, promising to make it all go away, to make it better again, like it had been before, promising to reunite her with her true family, her father. And this time Ruby agreed.

"She became a witch, made the pact with Tamara, died, and was dragged down to Hell," Sam finished.

Dean sighed. "So, in actual fact, Anna didn't hold up her end of the bargain as promised after all?"

Sam looked at Dean properly this time, really seeing him. "She's back, Dean. The knife didn't kill her. I don't know how, but she's back." As soon as he'd said it, he wanted to take it back.

Dean choked, clashing emotions fighting to take the lead – anger, hatred, incredulity, disbelief, shock.

"At the wedding, she came to tell me she was back… and that she wasn't finished with me yet."

"Ruby?" Castiel interrupted.

Sam glanced at him genuinely, and nodded.

Castiel laughed.

Dean stared at him.

Sam frowned.

Castiel shook his head, brushing away amused tears, and turned and disappeared.

"Damn it, Sammy!" Dean growled, rounding on his younger brother.

"It's the truth," Sam told him.

* * *

_Sorry, it's lame! Do I continue?_


End file.
